


A Well-Trained Agent Can Turn Anything Into a Weapon

by Estel



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Episode: s02e01 Shadows, Gen, Imprisonment, Psychological Trauma, Self-Harm, Self-Hatred
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-25
Updated: 2014-09-25
Packaged: 2018-02-18 17:25:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 301
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2356487
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Estel/pseuds/Estel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>[ Spoilers for 02x01 "Shadows" ]  Imprisonment and the absent hand of John Garrett begins to take it's toll on Ward. All he wants to do is escape.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Well-Trained Agent Can Turn Anything Into a Weapon

**Author's Note:**

> I do not support self-harm. I do not think it is beautiful or something that can simply be solved with nice words. What I do think is the statements made in the season premiere are alarmingly true to both people who do not adjust well to imprisonment and survivors of extreme psychological abuse.
> 
> If you or anyone you know self-harms or has thoughts of suicide, please seek help.

> _A well-trained agent can turn anything into a weapon._

The space was too small. It pushed in around him like a noose. He couldn’t breathe.

No. That was the swelling.

His larynx was still swollen because he’d lost a step. Every failure has a consequence and this one left him gasping when he felt the world caving in on him.

He just wasn’t strong enough to lift it off. He could survive his childhood, military school, prison, the forest, S.H.I.E.L.D., but not these four walls. He was too weak to push them off.

John Garrett could. He would probably have made it look easy and laughed when Ward struggled with it. Thrashing about didn’t help either. There was no footing to be gained or wall to push down.

The inertial confinement barrier wasn’t going to break for him.

It might have had a weak point, but he couldn’t find it. All the best training and the tenacity of a starved wolf, and still he couldn’t find a weak point.

Throwing the chair didn’t even make a dent in the wall.

He was too weak to find a hole in their defences. Until he could find a way to escape, he didn’t deserve freedom.

Even if he found a hole, he was certain he wouldn’t _deserve_ the freedom it would grant him.

With every corner and irregularity in the room searched, he aimed still to find an escape. He sank to the floor, head hung as he stared blankly into his lap, scouring all his years for some idea.

His bland grey shirt ended at bland grey trousers. A single grey button kept the fly shut on the pants. It glistened in the blinding fluorescent hell that surrounded him.

There was still one escape he hadn’t tried. 


End file.
